


Once Death Now Immortal Life

by thedarkqueenherself



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Grim Reapers, grim reaper harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkqueenherself/pseuds/thedarkqueenherself
Summary: On his most recent reap, Harry receives a strange letter from a school called Hogwarts. The Order is shocked when the letter they sent receives a reply. But when they meet him they are in for a surprise.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 183





	1. The Thrill of Death

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter, always the easiest to write. Please let me know how it is and ideas if you have any.  
> There are triggering factors in this first chapter such as suicide, death, and self harm.  
> And I don't own Harry Potter or Black Butler.

Warm soapy water cooled rapidly on his hands as he dried the dishes. Each dish he carefully put away, so not to break them and gain a punishment. Except for the last utensil, a sharp carving knife. As Harry dried it, the knife cut into the tip of his finger. In shock Harry dropped the knife and examined the bead of blood glistening on the tip of his finger, the pain had disappeared as soon as it had come. 

Quickly he picked up the knife from the floor and hid it in his pocket, mentally thanking Dudley for being overweight. It meant the pockets in his pants were bigger allowing for the knife to be hidden. Harry hung the drying towel in the cupboard under the sink and placed the drying rack there as well before making his way back to his cupboard to await further orders.

Once back in his cupboard Harry pulled the knife from his pocket and examined it. The blade was thin and about as long as his hand, and sharp, very sharp. He liked the way it shined it the single ray of light that came in through the vent. The handle was an ordinary black plastic, that fit his hand almost perfectly. The handle was slightly too big for his hand, the black edges gently cut into his skin, giving Harry a sense of comfort. 

A door opened. Harry’s eyes widened as he rushed to stash the knife under his pillow. He almost didn’t hide it in time as Vernon Dursley yanked the door on the cupboard open. 

“Freak! Clean this floor. How dare you leave the floor muddy!” Vernon said, harshly pulling Harry from the cupboard, showing him the fresh mud he had tracked in.

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry looked morosely at the mud.

He went back into the cupboard as soon as Vernon released him and grabbed the mop, bucket, and cleaner. He carried the bucket into the kitchen and put it into the sink and turned on the water. Carefully he measured out a bit of cleaner and poured it into the water before turning the tap off. Using what little strength he had Harry lifted the heavy bucket from the sink and went back to clean the mud from the hallway floor. 

Harry took his time cleaning the mud, making sure he got every speck there was, so that he wouldn’t be punished. He then grabbed the bucket and made his way back to the kitchen and dumped the dirty water down the sink. making sure to thoroughly clean the sink afterwards. Glancing toward the clock Harry went to the fridge to get the food for dinner. He knew he had to start it before Aunt Petunia got home from her weekly gossip group.  
He took out a cooking sheet and placed the meat on it, putting it in the oven. Then he cooked the corn and sliced up vegetables for a salad. Sneaking bits for himself, knowing that he wasn’t going to be permitted to eat. It had been three days since his last meal.

Just as he was placing the food on the table, Aunt Petunia entered. She started squabbling on about the neighbors and their drama. He sighed, quietly, before walking into the parlor and stating that dinner was ready. Luckily for him Dudley was staying over at a friend’s house. 

“Go to your cupboard, I don’t want to see you,” Petunia glared daggers at him.

Not bothering to respond he did just that. Anything to get away from his relatives. Why couldn’t he have a loving family? Why did they have to be drunks and get themselves killed?

Harry wondered about his family all night before the darkness overtook him. When he woke, it was still dark out. With no clock to glance at, he took the darkness as very late in the night. He pushed himself to a sitting position, his hand brushing over something cold. It was the knife. Carefully he pulled it out from under his pillow. Holding it up he was barely about to make it out in the darkness. 

He touched the blade, the coolness was a nice little shock. He stared at the blade, running his finger over the smooth metal surface , envying the sharpness of the blade. He gently placed the blade on his wrist, pressing down. But not hard enough to cut.

Would anyone care if he died?

Why should he live? He’s a freak.

He wasn’t good enough.

Freakish things happened around him.

Nobody wanted him.

Harry’s list went on. Finally he lifted the knife and venomously slashed as his left wrist. 

He gasped at the pain, but was in awe at the blood heavily flowing from the cut. Then he cut his other wrist and laid back. The loss of blood was starting to make him light headed. 

Then it went dark.

___________--------____________--------________

“Harry James Potter. Born July 31st 1980. Died August 1st, 1988 at age eight. Cause of death suicide,” a deep ominous voice called into the darkness, jolting Harry awake. “You Mr. Potter are to be punished from taking your own life.”  
“What do you mean?” Harry tried to see the person through the dark.

“You are to become a Shinigami or Grim Reaper as punishment. You will reap souls until you're forgiven. When you wake, get dressed and meet us in room 203.”

Harry felt himself fall. 

__________----------__________----------__________

He jolted awake to a sitting position. Blinking at the blurriness. He held a hand to his face, noticing it wasn’t blurry. He was nearsighted, it seemed. He hadn’t needed glasses before. Looking around Harry managed to make out a pair on the nightstand. He grabbed them and shoved the nuisance on his face. Finally able to Harry looked at the plain white room that held a bed, nightstand, wardrobe, and washbasin. 

Hanging off the wardrobe was a freshly pressed charcoal colored suit. Reminding him to get dressed and find room 203. 

Quickly Harry got up and splashed his face with the frigid water in the basin, shivering a little. Then dressed in the charcoal trousers, white shirt, vest, and coat. Turning he caught his appearance in the small mirror above his basin, he was a tad paler than usual and his hair was parted in the middle gently waving away from his face. Lifting one eyebrow he shrugged, at least his hair wasn’t a bird’s nest anymore. But his eyes were a sickly bright yellow green. He stepped back unsure of them. Harry quickly turned from the mirror unsettled by his sickly green eyes, and headed for the door.

Leaving his room was harder than he expected it to be. He wasn’t prepared to be lost in the endless white hall outside his room. Quickly turning back into his room, he pushed back against his door groaning. He slid down into a crouch, overwhelmed. He sat there unaware of the time passing.

“Mr. Potter?” A sharp voice pulled him from his thoughts, “Are you in here?” 

“Um, yes! Give me one second please!” Harry jumped up from the floor and opened the door to a black haired man. 

“Mr. Potter, I’m William T. Spears. I was asked to locate you, when you didn’t show up to room 203.” The man looked down at Harry, eyebrows lifting at how young he was.

Harry put his head down, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure where room 203 was.”

“No matter. Follow me.” William started walking, making Harry trot along to keep up. 

Harry looked around the hallway, noting each room number as they passed. They continued walking, eventually walking past room 203.

“Mr. Spears, sir. We’ve walked past room 203.” Harry spoke gently tugging at his coat. 

“Room 203 is not of importance anymore, Mr. Potter. I was asked to personally train you to be a grim reaper. Please follow me, we are behind schedule and I do not want to work over time.” 

William left Harry behind as he digested the information, he had to rush to catch up to WIlliam. 

__________----------__________----------___________

“The first thing you must know about being a grim reaper is that we don’t kill anyone who is not on the To Die List. We are here to decide whether or not someone dies, then we collect their souls. We do this by watching their cinematic records…”

Harry listened as William went on about soul collection.

__________----------__________----------___________

Harry had passed his exams. He had worked hard, pushing himself to the limits to learn about his endurance and agility. His first soul reap had been a success. And he had done it on his own, being the odd reaper in the new recruits, and since no one wanted a boy to be their partner.

He was finally part of the Retrieval Division, his dream. Now he was able to get a special pair of glasses made by Pops. 

Harry went up to the floor where Pops had his special room for his glasses. A while later Harry was wearing a delicate pair of ornate glasses, that seemed to have been made in the Victorian era. While he was out and about he also took his request to change his death scythe to Administratives, to change the simple and small scythe to something more, him.

Getting permission, Harry went back to his empty white room to change his scythe. For hours he worked. Other reapers who walked past his room heard the clanging of metal. Harry grunted and hammered away, sweating. Until it was finally complete.

A steampunkish ornate scythe stood proudly in the corner, gold and silver mixed as a deadly duo. It stood a couple heads taller than Harry. Thorny rose vines wrapped from top to bottom. The roses gave off a golden glow in the light. The silvery vines seemed to float around the handle, giving the impression of hand holds. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Harry smiled at his scythe.

“Hello Azriel,” He whispered to the scythe.  
Taking it into his hands, he felt the rush of power. He bathed in his magic, hair flaring and eyes glowing, as it melded with the scythe. Rapidly roses grew and died on the vines, until they grew one last time, staying in a fully blossomed state. 

__________----------__________----------___________

William sat at his desk looking through reports, remembering the first time he saw Harry. He was one of the youngest reapers he had ever seen. Despite his age Harry was one of the best. When his soul was reaped Will had to destroy a horcrux in the boy’s head, unfortunately leaving him with the scar. Will had told him later about it asking if he knew how he got it, but Harry had been surprised when he had been told about it, unsure where he had got it from. 

William felt almost like a father to the young boy, proud of him for everything he accomplished. And William was proud of himself for keeping Harry from Grell. For the few years Harry had been a reaper he had no interactions with the red headed reaper, to William’s relief. 

Sighing he went back to his paperwork, hoping to finish before six o’clock.

__________----------__________----------___________

Harry stood on the roof of some fancy place in London, looking through his To Die List. A leather bound journal about the size of his palm, attached to a chain. Harry had bent the rules to the dress code by adding a chatelaine to his attire. It was a modified version which attached to the pocket of his vest and carried his To Die List, Azriel when it was shrunken down, a spyglass, and a pocket watch. 

Releasing the journal, he grabbed his spyglass. John Rhodes was the next on his list. He was to die in the next couple of hours, an accident of course, jaywalking on a busy street never kept anyone alive. 

Starting at the left of the street he looked for John Rhodes. Nothing. Where was he? Harry sighed, taking the spyglass from his eye, he let it dangle from the chain it was attached to, he rubbed his eyes before picking it back up. Finally! There he was. Harry caught sight of the man. 

Releasing the spyglass, Harry let it fall back against his side and buttoned his coat to make sure that the chains of the chatelaine didn’t tangle while he followed John Rhodes.

Finally the time came and Harry pulled out his pocket watch and Azriel, counting down the last seconds of John Rhodes life. Jumping down from the top of the building, Harry swung his death scythe at the fallen man, watching as the cinematic record started playing. 

He cut the records and stamped the page of John Rhodes life, with the completed stamp. Finishing in time to see an owl fly towards him.


	2. Deadly Reassurances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter. Happy Valentines Day!

Deadly Reassurances

__________----------__________----------__________

“‘Dear Mr. Potter,

I’m pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term starts the first of September, please send you in your decision by owl before July 31st.

We await your response,

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,”’

William looked up from the letter.

“What does it mean Will,” Harry asked staring at the fancy parchment.

“It means Harry that you have been accepted into a school for living wizards. Since you are not living I cannot allow you to accept the invitation. We might have similar qualities to humans, but they will notice your differences,” Will pointed out before Harry could open his mouth.

“I know that,” Harry wryly told him. “Even if you did argee I wouldn't be accepted. It’s past the 31st.”

William narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t you have a soul to reap?”

“Not for a day or two. But I will leave. I might as well send them a letter of my condolences for not being able to attend their school.” 

“Yes it would be the polite thing to do.” William smiled at the boy before he closed the door to his office.

_________-----------____________-----------___________

“‘Dear Deputy Headmistress,

I humbly refuse your invitation to enroll me in your school. I am very busy working in London and won’t have time to attend. I am very pleased that you thought me worthy of a spot in your prestigious school. If you have questions do feel free to write to London’s Grim Reaper Dispatch. Although I can’t say they will respond after all we are severely understaffed.

Thank you for your time and consideration,  
Harry J. Potter,”’

Minerva finished the letter looking up at the Order, “I sent his acceptance letter out years ago.”

The Order was unsure how to respond to such a strangely formatted letter. 

“What’s the Grim Reaper Dispatch?” Ronald asked.

“That is what we are unsure of my boy,” Dumbledore said, grimly looking over his glasses.

“We must write him back,” Molly threw her towel on the table, “For all we know he could be in trouble.”

“I agree,” Remus added, and others in the room nodded in agreement. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Remus looked at Sirius, who seemed to deflate in relief.

“Harry’s alive.”

__________----------___________-----------__________

Harry was enjoying his cup of coffee at a corner cafe, sitting in the window watching the traffic pass waiting for his next reap. He had worked overtime the whole week, now he was paying for it, so he drank the coffee hoping his energy would return. He watched people pass by, not noticing a bushy haired girl watching him.

“You know that a boy your age shouldn’t be drinking coffee. It’s bad for your health,” she told him.

Harry started and narrowed his eyes, “thank you for the concern, but what I do to my body is none of your business.”

She huffed and turned back to her book. And Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before getting up. It was time for his next reap, as he walked out he pulled out his To Die List. Not noticing the girl watching him. She blinked when he disappeared. 

_________----------__________----------_________

He mentally cheered as his last cinematic record was cut. Harry was finally able to return to the Dispatch and call it a day. As soon as he returned to his office, he was given two letters from one of his coworkers, Ronald Knox. 

He opened the top one, leaving the other for his next day of work when he saw the emblem on the front of it. The one he opened reminded him of the parchment from the school letter. 

“Dear Harry,” He read, “I was shocked to say the least when you responded to the letter. The headmaster was quick to inform me that you were indeed, alive. My name is Sirius Black, your godfather. If you would allow it, I would love to meet you. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby, and when you didn’t respond to your Hogwarts letter years ago we were worried. It is a great relief to know that you are alive.

Please Respond,  
Sirius Black.”

Harry chuckled, ‘Alive. They thought he was alive. He did put that he worked as a reaper in his last letter. Maybe there was something similar for the living?’

Harry folded up the letter and tucked it in his inner suit pocket. Taking a pen he started to fill out his paperwork for the souls he reaped. He wanted to get them done. He didn’t want another week of overtime.

_________---------__________----------_________

The next morning Harry had responded to Sirius’s letter, refusing to see him. After all he was dead, why bring up the poor man’s hopes of a relationship? Plus Harry didn’t need the added stress of watching over a man who didn’t know what a grim reaper was. And he didn’t need him interfering.

After he sent the dismal letter, Harry opened up the next one. 

‘Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
We have been informed of a mishap with our filing. A Walburga Black was was reaped but her cinematic records were not, although it stated she was in our files. We ask of you to go to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and reap her cinematic records. Failure to do so will be punished with a letter of apology. 

Head of London’s Reaper Dispatch’

Harry sat back in his chair. He was given a mission, it proved how important he was. He smiled.

Then ran to tell Will.

__________----------__________------------___________

Sirius looked up from the letter teary eyed. Remus gre concerned, “Siri, what is it?”  
“It’s Harry, he doesn’t want to meet me.” He choked.

“Why? Does he say?” Remus asked.

“No, just that he doesn’t want the commitment of a relationship,” Tears started to stream down his face.

“Oh Sirius, he’ll come around. He’s probably moody, I know we were at his age,” Remus reached across the table to grasp Sirius’s hand. 

“I hope so,” he stated tearfully. 

_________------------__________-----------__________

William smiled down at the eight year old.

“I start the mission tomorrow. I can’t wait,” Harry rambled on.

“Harry,” William cut Harry off, “I know you're excited, but please remember to be careful. Most souls that don’t get reaped on the day that their host’s body dies can be very strong. Remember that you aren’t in an adult body. Just promise to come back in one piece.”

“I promise I will be careful, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do Will,” Harry smiled brightly at the reaper.

“Then don’t forget to do your paperwork.”

_________-----------___________-----------__________

Harry stood in the middle of Number Eleven and Thirteen, wondering where Twelve was. There was no room for a house to have been in between them at one point for they were squished together. So he opened his senses.

There was a cat crawling about, wind rustling the trees, a pie baking in the kitchen of Eleven, and multiple bodies chatting in between Eleven and Thirteen. So he pushed through the ward, after it was one of the perks of being dead and being a reaper, it didn’t affect him. It was his job to go through boundaries, otherwise how would he reap souls? 

But there was only one problem, he pushed too far. And ended up in the kitchen of Number Twelve. In the middle of a meeting.

“Who are you?” A one eyed man with a magic eye asked.

Harry straightened to his full eight year old height and said, “I’m Harry J. Potter, and I’m here for a Mrs. Walburga Black.”

The room rioted.

Harry pinched his nose, “would someone please show me the way to Mrs. Black. It is of the utmost importance that her cinematic records get severed.”

An old man with a long white beard drew his wand and fired a spell. “So you are indeed Mr. Potter. Why are you so short? And why are you interested in Walburga?”

Sirius choked at his response, “I am short because I have not aged since I was eight, due to circumstances I am uninterested in sharing. As for Mrs. Black, I need to reap her cinematic records. It was not done when she died. So I was asked to do it.”

“Harry,” Sirius called to the boy hopefully.

“No I told you Black. I do not want to get to know you. It’s for the best, for it will save you from disappointments,” Harry said walking around the order to get to a door on the far end, “Now if you excuse me, I _need_ to reap the recordsl.”

“Why?” That bushy haired girl from the cafe asked.

“It is my duty,” he said then added, “and my punishment.”

With that Harry left the room, and everyone followed. He walked part way down the hall before a portrait started to scream.

“Please Mrs. Black, do be quiet,” He urged, feeling a headache starting.

She sputtered. So Harry took the chance to speak, "Hello Mrs. Black, I am Harry J. Potter and I have come to collect your cinematic record. Do to the fact that your cinematic record was never severed. I feel it would be welcoming for you to move on and for your intruders to gain peace."

“No!” She screamed. “I will not be taken from my home! Especially by you, you filthy reaper!” 

Harry pulled out Azriel, who grew as Harry swung, and was fully grown as it sank into the painting. The order watched Harry in confusion as he watched nothing. But in fact he was watching the cinematic records of Walburga Black. He took out his To Die List and marked her as complete, before pulling Azriel out of the portrait and shrinking it to clip back under his coat.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, “What the hell did you do to my Mother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is feb 22


	3. Unwanted Questions Answered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's chapter 3. 4 will be here on Feb 29. Enjoy!

Unwanted Questions Answered

_________---------_________---------_________

To Sirius’s surprise he was able to manhandle Harry back to the kitchen and into a chair, repeating his question, "What the hell did you do to her?”

Harry looked at the surprisingly empiter kitchen, with only the magic eye man, a family of gingers, bush girl, a scarred man, Sirius, and the old man with a beard.

“Only what a reaper does,” Casting a glance at Sirius from the chair he was forced into. 

“Oh.” 

“Now would you introduce yourselves, after all it’s only fair,” Harry leaned forward eagerly.  
  
“I’m Albus Dumbledore,” the old man with a beard pointed out various members, “and that’s Madeye Moody, Hermoine Granger, Ronald, Molly, Arthur, and Fred and George Weasley, lastly Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry greeted dryly.

Hermoine piped up, “You're the boy at the cafe.”

“Yes, I was.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, “You’ve met?”

“Briefly, she was concerned about my beverage of choice.”

“It was coffee, and everyone knows that children shouldn’t drink it!” She ranted.

Sirius broke in when Hermoine took a breath, “Please, what did you do to my mother?”

Harry sighed, it was going to be a long night, “I severed her cinematic records so that her soul may go on to the next phase.”

“Why were you reaping her soul?” Albus asked.

“Because I was asked to,” Harry said pretending to be dense.

“How did you come into the position of reaping souls?” He asked more directly.

“I was forced into the position for punishment,” Harry told them.

“You could stay here. We could protect you,” Sirius practically vibrated in excitement at the thought.

“I can’t live with you Sirius,” Harry breathed out in frustration. Couldn’t the man take a hint.

“Why?” The man whined.

Harry fed up with the questions yelled, “Do you want to know why? I’m dead Sirius, and I have been since I was eight! I was forced to become a reaper because I killed myself to get away from the hell I was living in! And then guess what happened, I was punished for dieing.” Harry stopped to breathe and said quietly, “now I reap souls that will pass over peacefully, while I wait to be forgiven. Only I know that I won’t be.” Tears started falling from Harry’s eyes.

The room was dead silent at Harry’s outburst, shocked at the information revealed.

“So Sirius there is a reason why I don’t want to get to know you, and why I don’t want to live with you. So don't keep living for me Sirius. I'm dead." Harry's voice climbed before he whispered,"And you might like a familiar face by your side when you die, instead of a strange one. I know I would've,"Harry said as he faded into the shadows. Leaving Grimmauld behind.

__________-----------__________----------__________

Reclining on his bed, Harry thought over everything that happened. When he had returned from the mission he immediately wrote to the Head and asked when the time came, if he could reap Sirius’s soul. Even though Harry didn’t know the man he felt obligated to ask if he could. 

He looked out his window at the setting sun, knowing that the next day would bring more souls to reap. So he grabbed the corner of the blanket and rolled into it, falling asleep, unaware that William had entered.

William looked at the too young boy before pulling the blankets more secure around him.

__________----------__________-----------__________

It was one of those days. William was in over his head with paperwork. It was tedious and repetitive. Read, stamp, file, send out. Or at least it was until an alarm went off. It was the alarm for Reapers who disappeared or were taken. The alarm had never gone off the entire time William had been there.

Concerned he put his paperwork off to the side and exited his office, “What’s going on?”

Grell looked up, “It’s Harry. He’s gone missing. The higher ups think that he was kidnaped by the wizards.”

William pinched the bridge of his nose, “How long?”

“Probably be a couple of hours before he returns. Knowing Harry, he’ll want to get information from them.”

“True.”

__________----------________------------__________

He was rather disappointed when he didn’t wake up in his bed. Rather he woke up on a cold stone floor without his blankets. 

“Harry Potter,” A voice rasped out behind him.

Harry slowly turned to look at the strange looking man behind him.

“You're Tom Riddle, aren’t you? Your face is known by everyone who works with me,” Harry studied the noseless face.  
“How do you know that name?” Tom pushed his wand against Harry’s neck.

“Simple really. You're on the To Die List, only the Headquarters don’t care who reaps your records. Usually the To Die are assigned a reaper,” Harry told him, pushing the wand from his neck as he stood.

Flabbergasted Tom yelled, “Crucio! I am Lord Voldemort and you have met your end.”

Harry stood there watching him being dramatic, “Your magic doesn’t work on me. I’m dead.”

Tom stopped, his inner circle held up their wands.

“And why doesn’t my magic work on you?” His voice rasped in a sickly sort of way.

“It doesn’t work on me because I am dead. The only reason you were able to summon me is because I haven’t passed over. I’m being punished, and until I’m forgiven I am collecting souls.”

“Souls?”

Harry stood up straighter, “I am a grim reaper, and I will be collecting souls or records in our case until I am forgiven.”

Tom narrowed his gaze.

“The only reason I allowed you to summon me was because it was less work for me to do. One of your followers is going to die, which made it convenient,” Harry shrugged.

A long blond haired man stepped into the circle, “Perhaps my Lord he is lying?”

“How dare you speak without permission, Malfoy?” Tom hissed, “Crucio.” 

Nobody noticed Harry get his scythe.

Malfoy fell to the ground, flailing in pain. Blood running from the corner of his mouth where he had bit his tongue in attempts to keep silent.

Harry raised his scythe, this drew the eyes of the followers to him, “Lucius Malfoy I have come to collect your cinematic record,” He whispered just to Lucius.

Azriel went down. Death Eaters jumped with the sound of impact, eyes open wide at the boy staring at nothing.

“What did you do to my father?” A blond boy howled at Harry as he fought his way to the front.

“My job. I collected his cinematic record,” Harry pulled Azriel from the body.

“What happens to these souls?” Tom asked, silencing the blond boy.

“I’m not sure. That’s not my department,” Harry looked down to clip his scythe to its chain, “As fun as this was it’s time for me to get back to headquarters. You know paperwork and stuff.”

Harry walked through a part in the circle and through the wall. 

_________---------__________---------_________

Ronald and Grelle sat in front of Harry as he told the story again, William watched from the door to his office.

Clearing his throat he asked, “Don’t the three of you have paperwork to do?”

Sheepishly Harry looked at him and nodded. Grelle whined at the unfairness, and Ronald shook his head. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next Update Feb 15


End file.
